


Growth and Change

by Agent_24



Series: A Yearning [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Day 2, Fluff and Angst, Growth/Change, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 06:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10380534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: Exoneration:n. the action of officially absolving someone from blame; vindication.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to [Pretty Thoughts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4a_WuhH0FKk) by Alina Baraz and the Galamatias.

Second chances always inevitably led to third and fourths and hundredths when the person in question was someone you loved. Jesse knew better than anyone that unconditional second chances could lead to a whole mess of problems, but he also knew he couldn’t be anything but grateful for it.

He still, more than anything, regretted leaving Gabriel behind.

Logic said that it wasn’t any fault of his, not really. He’d asked and Gabriel had refused, and that wasn’t anything that anyone would blame Jesse for. Even so, a lingering guilt remained uncomfortably seated in his chest, nagging that he should’ve tried harder, that he should’ve stayed.

Logic would then insist that he’d be dead, and his inner argument would begin its cycle all over again.

When he infiltrated Talon, dressed in dark clothes with blue silk concealing his face, he considered it the best second chance he’d been offered in his life, maybe even better than his escaping Deadlock. And when Gabriel finally remembered him...well. Once upon a time, Jesse had stopped believing in miracles. Perhaps it was time he gave those a second chance, too.

* * *

Gabriel remained steadfastly convinced that something was his fault.

Jesse had tried everything he could think of to convince him that wasn’t true. He couldn’t have known about the double agents, Jesse reassured. He couldn’t have known about the brainwashing. He couldn’t have known how they’d twist him and Jack apart. He couldn’t have known how they’d use Amélie Lacroix, couldn’t have known that they’d target Ana Amari.

“I knew you wanted to leave,” Gabriel said. It was soft, a weakened thought that always weighed on his mind for weeks before he ever let it slip. It wasn’t ever meant to sting the way it did, but god, it stung, and Jesse never knew what to say about it.

“I’m here now,” was all he could manage, just like the last time, and the time before. “I ain’t going anywhere.”  

“I know,” Gabriel replied, as he always did, but his voice gave away that he didn’t know, not really.

Jesse hated that.

* * *

Sometimes when they touched, Gabriel grew quiet. 

Jesse dreaded it each time, knowing that it meant Gabriel was bothered about something, worrying that Gabriel might be fighting back a breakdown or that maybe Gabriel had changed his mind about the whole thing. This instance was no different; Gabriel kissed silently, like he was going through the motions instead of enjoying himself.

“What’s wrong?” Jesse murmured, still against Gabriel’s mouth.

Gabriel paused. His hands lingered over Jesse’s shoulder blades, eyes flitting over Jesse’s skin, as if counting freckles would better solidify him. “What if I forget you again?” he asked. There was fear etched into his voice that Jesse recognized as a sign of oncoming panic, skin slowly going ashen the way it did when he was on the verge of losing his form.

“Honey,” Jesse said mournfully, sitting up.

Gabriel blinked, as if realizing what he’d let slip, then shook his head. “I’m fine,” he rasped.

“You’re turnin’ paler than a sheet,” Jesse chided gently. “C’mon now, sit up.”

Gabriel swallowed and sat up, then glanced at his graying hands. Jesse slung his serape over Gabriel’s shoulders and scooted closer, just enough for their shoulders to brush.

“Breathe easy, sweetheart,” he  murmured, taking Gabriel’s hand. He brushed his thumb over Gabriel’s knuckles, then asked, “You wanna tell me what you’re doin’ worryin’ about that again?”

Gabriel exhaled and ran a hand through his curls, pulling Jesse’s serape tighter around his shoulders. “I’m always worrying about it,” he admitted. His bottom lip wavered, and he tucked his nose into the fabric, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke. “I never stop.”

Jesse remained silent, letting Gabriel ground himself without interruption.

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, the serape still covering his nose. After a moment, he said, “I know I can’t forget who I am unless they get to me again...but I still wonder if I dreamed this whole thing. Maybe I never got out in the first place.”

“Gabriel,” Jesse said gently. He let go of Gabriel’s hand, only to rub a soothing circle on his back before pulling him close. “Sweetheart-”

“I know.”

“Pumpkin, the day Talon gets to you again is the day I leave this earth.”

Gabriel shook his head into Jesse’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to risk that for me,” he murmured.

Jesse chuckled. “Angel, I snuck into Talon for you once already. You think they scare me any?”

“They should,” Gabriel said quietly.

“Well, they don’t,” Jesse said firmly. He pressed a kiss to Gabriel’s temple, then lifted his chin. “Look at me...there ain’t a force in this world that’s gonna take you from me again. I made the mistake of leavin’ you  once, and I’ve been regrettin’ it ever since. So, don’t think I wouldn’t take on all seven hells to keep you.” He took Gabriel’s hand again, kissed it gently, and against his knuckles murmured, “This is real. It ain’t never gonna be anythin’ but real. And you gotta stop talking like forgettin’ was any fault of yours.”

The serape slid off of one of Gabriel’s shoulders. He searched Jesse’s face as he pulled it back up, then dropped his gaze and nuzzled into Jesse’s throat.

* * *

“Can we talk?”

Jesse looked up from his book, morning coffee halfway to his mouth. He set both down and nodded, motioning for Gabriel to sit at the other end of their small kitchen table. “Sure, honey,” he said, as if the words didn’t make him nervous. “Somethin’ the matter?”

Gabriel sat and didn’t meet his gaze, though he reached across the table and took Jesse’s hands, running  his thumbs over each knuckle. “I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” he confessed.

“Oh yeah?” Jesse asked, mind at ease now.

“Yeah,” Gabriel answered. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, then said, “You said it wasn’t my fault that I forgot, and you’re right. But you also said that you regretted leaving me.”

Jesse searched Gabriel’s features, expecting to see pain and instead finding sincerity. “I do,” he said, honest.

“I don’t want you to be,” Gabriel said. “I’m glad you got out when you did. I should’ve gone with you.”

Jesse looked taken aback.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty about that,”  Gabriel went on. “Because yes, it hurt when you left, but if you hadn’t, I would’ve taken you to Switzerland with me. And you may not have made it.”

Jesse swallowed down the lump that was rising in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said after a short bit of silence.

“I am too,” Gabriel said quietly, bringing Jesse’s hands up to kiss them. “But we’re both learning from mistakes we made when we were younger. I want us to move on from this.”

Jesse bit his lip, trying not to tear up, and nodded firmly. “Okay.”

“And for the record...” Gabriel added, “I’d rather die than let anyone take you from me too.”

Jesse’s chest swelled. “I know, sugarbean,” he said.

Gabriel blinked, then snorted. “Sugarbean?” he asked.

Jesse shrugged, smile spreading over his mouth. “Slipped out,” he said.

“Sure,” Gabriel grinned. Jesse laughed, and leaned over to kiss him across the table.  

**Author's Note:**

> nighthawk  
> n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.
> 
> \- The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows


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